Bleak But Not Weak

The year runs down, and I run out of steam --
And cash -- but in the offing there's much good.
I've helped a good friend stride towards her dream
And cross my fingers for her, as I should.
My team-ups all go well, and solo work
Proceeds apace; my job is steady and
A rare security is mine -- a quirk
That almost seems obsence as, crossed the land
So many languish. I do all I may
To help, but mostly it's nowhere enough.
I know I'm not alone in trying -- hey,
This ain't the first time that times have been tough!
It's easy to lose hope this time of year,
But chances unknown may be very near.

In Which I Share The Fruits Of An Afternoon's Nosy Questioning

It wasn't scientific; I just asked

Some friends online who had gone out and bought

The iPad Saturday just how, when tasked

To cough up the five hundred bucks -- a lot

For any gadget -- they paid up. I learned

That while ol' Mister Plastic took a kick

Right to the nuts, most of my friends have spurned

To pay out months of interest. The trick

Was saving up so they could buy, then pay

The company and earn reward points, too.

Still others used store plans. No one would say

They'd carry any balance. 'Tis a clue,

Perhaps, that these hard times have taught them well

To manage their resources. Time will tell.

In Which I Am Haunted By A Ghost Fleet

I have a fascination with the ships
That carry freight between the continents.
I've often thought of hopping one; yes, it's
Long been an idle dream of mine. Events,
Though, in the world economy have trapped
Five hundred ships just off Malaysia's coast
At anchor with just tiny crews, all strapped
For work and operating funds. A ghost
Fleet it's been called, and it's hush-hush.
A sign of long malaise that contradicts
The good news that so many, in a rush,
Have bleated 'bout recovery. The fix
If such come will move these shipts first,
So I shall hunker down, expect the worst.

In Which I Further Whip At Least One Possibly Ex-Horse

O, Bernie Madoff, Magrathean git,
Do you prove that mankind may yet be taught?
Your ponsi-scheme is dead, and thus your wit
Rewarded amply now that you are caught
And sentenced. Yea, like your forebears of old,
You shall sit undisturbed in a dank hole
Until th'economy revives. Grow mold
At peace there in jail, no chance of parole
For one hundred and fifty years. To build
To-order worlds sucked galaxies quite dry,
A feat not for the just or the unskilled.
Fake dividends don't orbit through the sky
But do as much harm when you make enough.
Enjoy your prison time; you've got the stuff.

Some Lines As I Prepare To Be Stupified By Marvel Studios' Latest Despite Its Weak Reviews

While I love comics, I'm no major fan

Of superheroes and their backstories.

Though I quite liked the Neil Gamain Batman -

That oeuvre is from DC's inventories

And Marvel's on my mind as I prepare

To take in Wolverine after my run

To Heroes Only for my fix. Aware

I am that this means I'll have much less fun

Than those who've dwelt on every small detail

Of Logan's life and loves and hates and foes.

In truth, my baser motives here prevail:

Hugh Jackman and our economic woes

Draw me. I learn in Gross's Dumb Money

That Marvel Studios shares blame. Funny!

In Which I Feel My Car's Pain More Than It Does

If this had been a stress-test, I'd have failed.

I'd have to issue CAP securities

To Geithner and his bunch. But I've curtailed

Attempts to understand that stuff. Oh please -

We all have anyway. Let's talk 'bout my

Own stresses. While my car came out okay

(A dirty air flow sensor, cleaned now by

The guys at Logan Ave's repair bay. Hey -

It didn't need replaced, just cleaned is all!),

I spent the morning watching jagged lights

Across my vision, hearing... I could call

It piercing, this whine, but that term just slights

The sounds tormenting me, though just describes

A migraine's pain. Too many diatribes?

Curses! It's Pledge Drive Time

I have a tote and vest and hat; all prove

That I'm a sucker for that time each fall

When all the voices that I'm hearing move

From giving news and info, to a call

For listeners to pony up and pay. 

There are two stations that get my support,

Since both of them get tuned in through my day.

I do rely on them; what they report

Is often inspiration for my rhymes,

And how I start and end my waking hours.

I pay my way, but still suffer, these times,

A guilt that it is quite beyond my powers

To assuage. Oh damn you, spring pledge drive!

Of course I want your stations to survive!

A Sonnet On Bogus Bonuses - But Not A Bonus Sonnet

Let me say, first: The fact we are at all
Engaging in these bailouts makes me ill.
That we let something get too big to fall,
Though, means that we somewhat deserve the pill,
Though bitter. That said, is there anyone
Out there who's gladly stomaching the thought
Of AIG's announcement? I'm undone
Just sorting out the details of this plot.
But in my naive way I'm fairly sure
That bonuses reward a great success;
Are handed out when matters are secure.
But this time it is WE, without redress,
Who's doling out the dough to reward bad
Decisions and worse management. We're had!

And All I've Done So Far Is Make An Offer...

My sister dear, at this point in the game
(That game, of course, is buying property)
Predicted that the phrase I'd most proclaim
(And with this my homeowning friends agree):
Would be a variation on this one:
Oh holy cow, just what did I just do?
That's not to say the process isn't fun,
But with each stage it's harder to subdue
The urge to freak out, scream and run away.
The house is one I can afford to buy,
And also own. I've not been led astray
By anyone. The numbers say that I
Can do it, and I've certainly the will.
But thirty years of payments! I feel ill.

Bonus Sonnet on the Casper Star-Tribune

Reducing costs by cutting back on staff
Instead of on the less essential things,
Has come to be so common I can't laugh
To learn that a newspaper also clings
Fast to the thought reporters aren't a need.
That they are what the news can't do without
A quaint idea held just by those who read,
But one the publishers can surely flout.
Cut to a scene just days after the news
Came out and cops and ambulances and
Whatnot were all on scene searching for clues.
But it was no ex-worker out of hand.
"You lost your job? Well here, just have some blow"
Some joker thought, and mailed it, as we know.

Downturn, Schmownturn, I've Got Hope and I'm Buying a House to Prove It!

I'm off on an exciting journey, which,
I once would never have thought could occur.
I knew that houses weren't just for the rich,
But didn't grasp just what my options were.
Financial news is grim 'most ev'rywhere;
Wyoming, though, is still in decent shape.
Our progress is so slow and we're so square,
That we take time to catch up, or escape,
The trends beyond our borders. I, therefore,
Have got a chance to move now to improve
My lot in life, to free my hopes to soar,
To make at last a long-awaited move.
I'm house-hunting, for keeps this time, hooray!
All thanks due to the WCDA.